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From Ballarat & District in the Great War

Lt Auburn (Aub) Douglas CALLOW WWI

The recent 80th Anniversary commemorations of Kokoda were a sombre reminder of the cost of Australian military bravery. Then, out of the rubble of history, came another local soldier whose connection to this historic campaign had its beginnings in the ranks of Ballarat’s citizen forces and his experiences in the Great War.

An adventurer from the Isle of Man brought his family to Australia in the 1850’s. Thomas Callow had travelled widely – the United States, India and China during the Taiping Rebellion – before returning to his home village of Kirk Andreas to marry. His wife, Jane Moore, was to present him with seventeen successive children.

After the birth of their fourth child, Andrew Edward, at Glen Auldyn in 1867, the Callow family left the Isle of Man and emigrated to Australia. They arrived in Melbourne on 31 August 1868 and settled in the Brighton area.

Andrew Callow proved to be a good athlete and an even better horseman. From an early age he was involved in working the land – he was just 17 when he took out first place at the Cheltenham Championship Ploughing Meeting. Studying at the Melbourne Veterinary College (GMVC), Andrew went on to pass his examinations in veterinary science with distinction.
On 16 April 1895, Andrew married Ethel Mary Railton Cooke, the eldest daughter of Western Australian squatter Nathaniel W. Cooke of the Roy Hill Station. The marriage took place at the Australian Church in Flinders Street, Melbourne.

The first of their five children, Auburn Douglas Callow, was born at Hawthorn on 26 March 1896. Soon after, they relocated to Ballarat, where Andrew quickly became a popular and respected member of the community.

During the Boer War (1899-1902), Andrew served as an officer with the remount committee responsible for selecting horses to be taken to South Africa. In 1902, he was given the singular honour of acting as Officer Commanding the Veterinary Corps during the visit of Prince George (later King George V). His involvement with Ballarat’s 19th Light Horse (known territorially as the Yarrowee Light Horse) was to be long and distinguished; he was to reach the rank of major by 1913.

Andrew’s younger brother, Charles Noris, lived with the family whilst he was studying veterinary science – he eventually set up practice at Colac.

Auburn, meanwhile, had reached school age. The family had settled into a home at 23 Doveton Street south, so it was just a very short walk to the Dana Street State School – then referred to as the Central State School.
It seems that Aub was a typical boy, with all the rough and tumble that involved. But on 7 December 1909, he required treatment at the Ballarat Hospital for a cut head after he was thrown from a cart.

Having completed his primary education, Aub graduated to the Ballarat Agricultural High School, which opened for term one in 1910. The selection of this school was perfect for the young man – like his father, he had an intense interest in farming, and was to gain great experience working alongside Andrew on their 120-acre property at Scotsburn. A bright boy, Aub also passed his Junior and Senior Public Examinations and matriculation whilst he was a student at Ballarat High.

On leaving school, Aub became an assistant veterinary surgeon to his father. His brother, Nathaniel (Neil), would also follow the same early career choice. They worked the property at Scotsburn and it was there that Aub felt most at home.

With the closing of Grenville College in 1910, the former buildings belonging to the school became available to the public for purchase. As a result, Andrew Callow acquired the former principal’s house, a substantial home known as Grenville House at 520 Mair Street.

When war was declared, Aub was very keen to sign up immediately. Of course, being just 18, he required one or both parents to give their permission. His father was more than happy to provide the necessary paperwork – when Aug presented himself at the Ranger Barrack’s in Ballarat on 8 September 1914, he handed the recruitment sergeant the following note.
‘I hereby give my consent to my son’s enrolment as a volunteer for expeditionary force.’

Local doctor, Paul Dane (q.v.), conducted Aub’s medical examination and passed the young recruit fit to join the AIF. He was 5-feet 9½-inches tall and weighed 140-pounds. Interestingly, he noted that Aub had two scars on his face – a four-inch scar on his forehead (from the accident five years earlier) and another through his left eyebrow. In appearance, Aub had a medium complexion with brown hair and eyes. He also nominated Methodism as his chosen religion.

Aub had the added advantage of a solid background in military training. He had spent nearly two years with the junior cadets at Dana Street, before a further three years with the senior cadets attached to the 71st Infantry (City of Ballarat) Battalion – two years as a lieutenant. However, it was his ability as a horseman that would influence which branch of the AIF he was to serve and he immediately headed to Broadmeadows Camp to join the 8th Light Horse.

An unfortunate incident on New Year’s Day 1915 delayed Aub’s departure for Egypt. When he was thrown from his horse, he had been knocked unconscious and suffered a broken arm. Sent home to recover, Aub was ‘keenly disappointed’ over the accident and soon allowed to rejoin his unit.

On 25 February 1915, the 8th Light Horse embarked from Melbourne onboard HMAT Star of Victoria. Aub was a signaller with the Headquarters Staff identified by the regimental number of 10.

Initially, the Light Horse regiments were not considered for the Gallipoli Campaign due to the terrain being unsuitable for mounted troops. However, the high casualty rate following the Landing led to a change in direction for the regiments with the men being sent in as unmounted troops. The 8th Light Horse sailed from Alexandria at 4am on 16 May. Following a slight delay (caused by a Turkish counter-attack on 19 May) that saw the men being ordered back to Lemnos, the 8th Light Horse finally reached ANZAC on 21 May. They immediately headed into the trenches on Walker’s Ridge.

Just days after arriving at ANZAC, Ballarat’s Basil Ross, who was serving with the 8th Infantry Battalion, recorded in his diary a happy trench reunion with some mates from home – and an historic moment of the Gallipoli Campaign.

‘…During the afternoon Aub Callow, Charlie Guyatt, and Stan Fry made a call On "your honour," so I was the "host" of the afternoon. We all enjoyed "afternoon tea" together, which I slapped up for about six of us in three "dixies" and as neither Bill nor I were great eaters, we always had plenty of eatables in store; that is, of what there was available, and-we didn't fail to score some meat, rice, etc., from the beach occasionally.

During the afternoon, while we were having our high old time one of the Turkish generals came in on a white horse under the Crescent to ask for an armistice. After consultation with our heads, they came to a decision to allow them such from 7.30 a.m. till 4 p.m. on Monday. 24th inst. With all the guns stopped, it seemed that quiet a day that one fancied he was home in a peaceful country…’

Aub was able to write a comprehensive account of his own experiences in a letter to his parents, dated 3 July 1915.

‘…To my Dear Mother and Father, Was so pleased to get newspaper a day or so ago, dated 10th May. Full accounts of the landing of the Australians were given. Nothing, as far as I could see was false, or exaggerated.

We were not the first to land, but landed a week or two later. We could quite see what a wonderful undertaking this was, and one could only realise the difficulties that our infantry had gone through by seeing the place.

You get accounts and casualty lists a day or two after they happen in the papers, so it is not much good giving you long accounts in my letters. By this you will know of the casualties of our regiment and brigade. Our regiment especially has suffered very much lately.

We have been in the trenches continually for the last fortnight. The enemy, have two or three fresh guns in position, and have been shelling our positions a good deal lately. A terrific bombardment of our trenches took place at daylight one morning last week. It was a hell for about an hour. The shells crashed about without the slightest warning. One landed in the trench where I was on duty with a terrific explosion. The concussion was terrible, and on recovering ourselves found Major [Ernest Albert Edward] Gregory lying on the ground dead, a couple of feet from us. He was frightfully smashed up. The shell must haw caught him full, and then burst. He was second in command of our regiment, and was an experienced soldier and splendid officer. [Killed in Action 27 June 1915]. Our adjutant, Capt. [Joseph Terrell] Crowl, was killed in the same way in a sap nearby and about the same time. There were eight killed and 32 wounded that morning from our regiment alone.

I had the luck to get through; it was a lucky escape. A piece of shell grazed my head, just catching the puggaree, and ripping it off the side of my helmet. Another small piece of flying stone hit me in the right thigh, inflicting a little wound, not serious.

The night before last was a black, stormy night; rain began to sprinkle about nine o'clock; the lightning flashed vividly, and the thunder cracked overhead. The rain ceased about 9.30 and about 11 o'clock a hot rifle fire from the enemy started. It crackled overhead for about half an hour, and then ceased all of a sudden. I was on duty until 12 midnight and had just turned in to have a sleep when I was awakened by one of my fellow signallers saying, "Hop up -- stand to arms -- they are upon us." The moon was just showing from behind the black angry storm clouds with occasional flashes of lightning and the peal of distant thunder. Our supports were moving up in the ghastly light without a murmur or a sound, except for the occasional clash of the cold, bright steel. The enemy was creeping on us; flares were lit and thrown out. This showed the movements of the attackers in the bushes in front of our trenches. "There they are." "Look at them." "Give it to them.'' The excitement of our boys and the volleys of bullets which we poured into the advancing mob were answered by "Allah, Allah." The merciful cries of the intruders were answered again by our boys with, "Come on Allah," as the Australian rifles and machine guns mowed them down.

One of the enemy who had worked his way almost to the edge of our trench stood up and cried in broad English, "Cease fire!" Our boys took no notice, but bowled him over. It lasted like this until the enemy had all been killed and wounded or treated. Then their artillery began action, and our artillery answered. All was quiet again by 4 o'clock, and at daylight the result could be seen between the enemy's and our trenches. It was strewn with dead bodies. The loss of the enemy amounted to some hundreds. Our casualties were two killed, and about six wounded. It was exciting while it lasted. Things have been very quiet since, except for artillery duels.

Am in fairly good health. We are still in same place. Gaining ground in places. Hope to make general advance shortly. We are in such a position here that we must hold our own. We have the enemy in front of use, and the deep, blue ocean behind, and could only retreat into the sea, so it is life or death. That is the motto of the Australians, which has been proved…’

Aub spoke too soon: on 25 July he reported sick to the Beach Hospital suffering from influenza. When his condition did not improve, he was evacuated to Malta onboard the Hospital Ship Somalia. He was admitted to the St Andrew’s Hospital on 31 July suffering with a fever. Although his condition was not considered serious and his family was informed as such, Aub made a slow recovery and did not return to ANZAC.
The Gallipoli Campaign did, however, claim one of Aub’s extended family. Roy Egerton Cooke, his mother’s youngest brother, was killed in action at Lone Pine on 6 August 1915. He had served under the name Leslie Fain Craig as a trooper with the 7th Light Horse.

By the time Aub Callow was fit for service the evacuation of Gallipoli was already underway. He returned to Egypt on 7 December. When he rejoined his unit on 28 December, there was a noticeable absence of familiar faces. The 8th Light Horse had taken a central role in the disastrous attack on The Nek on 7 August. Two waves of lighthorsemen rushed the Turkish positions on that fateful day – 155 did not return.

Before the year was out, Aub had been appointed to the rank of lance-corporal. This was followed by promotion to corporal early in the New Year.

Writing to the Sunday Times newspaper, Aub’s maternal aunt, Mabel Cordelia Wright, shared a piece of poetry sent to her by her nephew. The poem was written by Cuthbert Flynn. Although designed as a prod to reluctant volunteers, the pathos resonated especially with the families of men of the 8th Light Horse. Mabel noted that her nephew was a signaller ‘one of six of 19 in the gallant 8th Light Horse who got through.’ She also indicated that Aub had noted in his letter that the verses were ‘quite authentic, and he thinks perhaps many, by reading them, may realise the hero's crown is doubly worth after all. The stay-at-home, of whatever origin, must know remorse sooner or later…’

‘…THE 8th LIGHT HORSE.
(Said to have been composed by one who was persuaded by his wife to stay behind.)

Lengthening shadows on lonely graves,
Blistering bones in the sun,
And I work here at my lonely desk
With a pen instead of a gun—
Yet I belonged to the 8th Light
Horse of the 3rd Light Horse Brigade.

You remember us clattering through the streets,
And the workmanlike show we made;
Don't you remember the waving flags,
The crowd, and the storm of cheers?
The women that laughed and prayed and wept,
The maidens who smiled through tears?

And I rode then, with Peter and Ben,
Their knees pressed hand to mine;
Pete never came back from bloody Anzac,
Ben died at Lonesome pine.
And the shadows lengthen on Peter's grave,
Bens bones bleach in the sun,
And I sit here with a pen on my ear
While they fall one by one.

I wonder how many are left of the men
Of the 3rd Light Horse Brigade?
How many are fallen of those brave chaps
Who fought as well as they played.
It is not so long since we laughed at the men
Who plugged along per boot -
The 8th Light Horse, would it stay behind
When the guns began to shoot?

With scarcely a thought for the horses they brought,
And went on board with a cheer,
They blazed their track at grim Anzac,
And I sit lonely here.
Out of six hundred and fifty men
Answered the roll call a score;
The horses may wait on the lines a while,
Their riders will come no more.

Tiny and Lofty, Peter and Mick,
All of us comrades true;
We lived and loved arid worked and plated,
And quarrelled, as comrades do.
Can I remember how Lofty laughed,
And the way Mick brushed his hair?
They all of them fell in that one mad rush
Bar me, and I was not there.

I'll bet they were first in that frenzied burst,
When the 8th Light Horse went down,
In a hail of shell and a burst, from hell,
That won them a hero's crown.
Lofty lies broken on Turkish soil,
Mick s eyes stare in the sun,
Tiny has gone to his last account
With his fingers clutching his gun.

The skies are blue and the air is clear,
And the sun shines overhead;
And I could choke when I think of the smokes
I've borrowed from men who are dead.
The dearest mate's that a man could have
Are numbered among the slain; 

The men who turned out to "stables" with me
Will never do "stables" again.
No more will reveille wake Jim McNallie,
He, too, has gone with them all;
It is easy to die; do you wonder that I
Was silent at Duty's Call?

The shadows still lengthen on lonely graves,
The bones still bleach in the sun;
But I sit here at a dreary desk
With a pen instead of a gun.
So shed me a tear for the gallant 8th
of the 3rd Light Horse Brigade,
Who went to their death with as steady a nerve
As they rode out on parade.

And if they discarded a few old clothes,
If they didn't look pretty well;
They served a patch on the back of their shirts,
And charged like the hammers of hell.
They did not hang back on the slopes of Anzac;
Through a solid wall of 1ead they
dashed and died like men—
God rest their gallant dead.

And I wonder whatever they think of
me, in their shallow graves in the sand,
For I didn't charge with them at grim Anzac,
The tears of a woman held me back
and the clutch of a baby's hand…’

The 8th Light Horse, as a part of the ANZAC Mounted Division, played an important role in defending the Suez Canal as the Turks pushed across the Sinai Desert during March 1916. Aub was still at Ferry Post, the gateway to the eastern desert, in June when he was promoted to signaller-sergeant.

Although the 8th Light Horse did not take part in the Battle of Romani on 3-5 August, they were a involved in the advance that pursued the Turks as they retreated across the desert.

Conditions in the desert regions for the Lighthorsemen was tough and after several months of hard grind, Aub reported sick to hospital at Hassamya on 24 August. He was admitted to the 3rd Light Horse Field Ambulance at Ballybunion suffering from debility – an all-encompassing term that covered everything from nervous exhaustion to the effects of poor diet and sanitation. Aub needed just four-days rest to regain his equilibrium.

As the year drew to a close, the advancing Lighthorsemen reached Palestine and, on 23 December, the 8th Light Horse took part in the Battle of Maghdaba, capturing the Turkish outpost ‘at bayonet point.’

(Back in Ballarat, Neil Callow had finally reached his 18th birthday and enlisted on 19 February 1917. He attended several signalling courses in England before proceeding to France, where he joined the 5th Division Signallers on 11 June 1918. Interestingly, given that he would serve in World War II, reaching the rank of captain, his service in the Great War was littered with “crimes” – he was absent without leave on a number of occasions, absent from parade, failed to obey orders, failed to acknowledge the King’s Commission – not saluting an officer – and insolence. He would eventually return to Australia on 5 July 1919).

Aub attended a month-long School of Instruction from 24 February until 21 March 1917. It was during this period that he committed his only indiscretion – he was severely reprimanded for a neglect of duty on 14 March.

When Andrew Callow enlisted on 10 June 1917, he was appropriately assigned to the Australian Veterinary Corps. He was soon to join his eldest son in Palestine and was with the Desert Corps through 1918. Bouts of malaria were to cause him some discomfort during his months on active service.

During 1917, the 8th Light Horse took part in two failed battles to capture the Turkish stronghold of Gaza. Then, on 31 October, Aub and his comrades took part in the important flanking manoeuvre at Beersheba. This ultimately led to the taking of Gaza and the collapse of the Turkish line through the region, forcing the enemy into further retreat and eventual capture of Jerusalem. Aub, however, had suffered a further bout of illness and had been evacuated to the 14th Australian General Hospital at Abbassia on 18 November. As a result, he missed these most triumphant moments experienced by the Australian Light Horse.

The 8th Light Horse continued to be at the vanguard of Allied victories during 1918.

After being selected for officer training, Aub was ordered to report to the Cadet School at Zeitoun on 1 August. The course took a full four months and, consequently, Aub was not with his regiment when the Turks surrendered on 31 October nor when the Armistice was signed bringing the war to an end. He qualified for his commission on 1 January 1919 and was immediately appointed to the rank of second-lieutenant.

Egyptian unrest over British occupation boiled over on 15 March 1919. Aub Callow had rejoined the 8th Light Horse earlier in the month and the regiment was immediately called back to operational duty to help quell the revolt. It took a little more than a month to restore some semblance of order, by which time Aub had also received a further advance in rank when he was promoted to full lieutenant on 1 April.

Whilst the 8th Light Horse sailed back to Australia on 3 July, Aub was granted a month’s leave on account of his long service allowing him to travel to the United Kingdom. He sailed from Port Said on 23 July and reported to London Headquarters on 5 August.

It was during this time that Aub managed to visit his father’s family on the Isle of Man and it was at Northfield Andreas there that he met a distant cousin, Catherine Jane Callow. Known as Katie, she was apparently a dark-eyed, black-haired beauty and Aub was instantly smitten.

Upon the completion of his leave, Aub was granted an extension (with pay and subsidies) to attend a course of instruction at the Scottish Agricultural Organisation Society in St Andrew’s Square, Edinburgh. The course was set to run from 13 September until 9 November and during that time Aub received instruction in the latest farming methods employed in the United Kingdom.

With a passage to Australia organised, Aub was forced to leave the course the day prior to completion. He reached the No2 Group at Sutton Veny on 10 November and just twelve days later sailed home onboard the SS Aeneas.

As a result of their service in the AIF, three trees were planted in Ballarat Avenue of Honour: Auburn was tree number 247, Nathaniel 2915a and their father, 3497. Interestingly, Andrew had been a keen advocate for planting of the Avenue, but he spoke quite passionately against the use of imported species, preferring ‘our own noble Australian evergreen giants.’
Returning to his former school in Dana Street, Aub presented the honour roll committee with a large number of cypress plants that had been grown from seeds he collected at the Virgin Mary’s tomb in Palestine. The plants were made available for purchase with the proceeds going towards defraying the costs of the school’s large honour board.

Having been discharged from the AIF on 8 February 1920, Aub immediately set about moving into the next phase of his life. His interest in farming was to develop even further. He continued to help his father at Scotsburn and also worked alongside farmer, Maxwell Gaunt, at Mount Rowan.

In the time since he had last seen Catherine Callow, the pair had kept up a steady correspondence. Apparently, he proposed marriage over the course of a number of letters and, finally, Catherine agreed and he secured a passage to Australia for his new fiancée. She arrived in Melbourne on 2 September – just another 23-year-old serving maid hoping for a bright new future. Their ‘quiet but pretty marriage’ was celebrated at St Peter’s Church of England in Sturt Street, Ballarat, on 21 September. Catherine, on the arm of Mr John Walker-Lee, entered the church to the strains of the Wedding March. She made a charming picture in her gown of ivory crepe de chine and a veil secured with orange blossom. Her bridesmaids were Mona Callow (Aub’s sister) and Marguerite “Rita” Lee. Aub was supported by his friend, Campbell Walker-Lee, as best man and his brother, Neil, as groomsman.
After the service, which was performed by the Reverend F. T. Morgan-Payler, a wedding reception and breakfast was held at the Alexandra Tea Rooms in Lydiard Street. An interesting aspect of the occasion was Andrew Callow proudly addressing the guests in Manx and reciting the Lord’s Prayer.

That same evening Aub and Catherine departed for Brighton, where they spent a week before travelling to Gippsland for a two-week honeymoon.

On returning to Ballarat, the young couple made their home at “Lhen Moar” (named for a Methodist chapel at Kirk Andreas) in Mair Street.

In 1922, Aub received an advance of £144 from the Closer Settlement Board to allow him to lease a small property at Mount Rowan from his brother-in-law, George Gregory. It was there that he and Catherine welcomed their first child, Royston Kneen on 16 June 1922. A second son, Edward Andrew, was born on 22 October 1923.

Throughout this period, Aub continued his association with the local troop of Light Horse. On 20 February 1923, for the opening of the Commonwealth Parliament, the Governor-General’s escort was drawn from Ballarat troops, including a detachment of Light Horse – Aub was given the honour of leading the detachment. On 1 July 1927, he was promoted to captain in command of the 19th Light Horse.

After 18-months working a mixed farm on his lease agreement, Aub realised that the property was not big enough to provide him with a sustainable income for his growing family. On 4 March 1924, he took up a conditional purchase lease of 312-acres on the Trawalla Estate. He impressed the Closer Settlement Board with his knowledge and drive – he had plans to cultivate the land for the growth of cereal crops and then ‘lay down the land’ with grasses for grazing sheep. In this pre-mechanised era, Aub was looking to purchase a team of four draft horses to cultivate the paddocks. Their new home, “Glen Auldyn,” was situated at Brewster.

The birth of a third son, Leslie Auburn, on 7 April 1925, was the last of Aub and Catherine’s children born at Ballarat. Two further sons completed their family – Bernard Neil on 18 January 1928 and finally Leonard Desmond on 26 September 1929 – both births were registered at Beaufort.

The sudden death of Andrew Callow on 15 September 1931 came as a great shock to the community. His body was found in a stable at the rear of his Mair Street home, where he had apparently collapsed and died. There had been no indication of poor health as Andrew, in his role as honorary veterinary surgeon to the Ballarat Society for the Protection of Animals, was about to leave on a mission to the northern areas of Victoria to attend to sick horses of distressed soldier-settlers.

This to prove a turbulent time for Aub Callow. His marriage to Catherine had been painfully unhappy for some considerable time, but soon after his father’s death things came to an abrupt end. Catherine left Aub and their five young sons and eventually returned to the Isle of Man. Following the failure of their marriage, Aub was forced to advertise for a housekeeper. The Great Depression meant there were plenty of applicants, but (apparently in consultation with his estranged wife) Mrs Irene Bowler was offered the position. She was instantly faced with the care of a household full of small boys, in addition to her own young daughter, Loris.

It was to be years later that the catastrophic breakdown of the marriage between Aub and Catherine was played out in detail in a divorce hearing. An affidavit provided by Catherine (she did not return to Australia for the case) painted a picture of alleged abuse and acrimony and made multiple allegations of infidelity. However, in response, Aub showed there were clearly two sides to this particular story. In a letter written to the Public Solicitor on 12 June 1934, the true state of the marriage was revealed:
‘…During our married life…my wife cleared out from me and my children on 5 different occasions leaving me each time with a baby from 4 to 12 months’ old. On one occasion in 1925, I located her after several days in Ballarat. She having accepted a job. I was able to persuade her to come back to her babies, only after the most pathetic appeal on my part.

On another occasion the local police stopped her run-away, drove her home and ordered her back to her 3 months’ old child. On the last occasion, 31st Jan 1930, she left for good in the presence of the local police constable. She had been preparing to go for some time and had on this date secretly removed all her personal belongings to a neighbours.

Upon the good advice and kindly sympathy extended to me by the local police, I had to obtain a housekeeper to take care of my 5 children. I advertised for a housekeeper in the Ballarat paper and received dozens of replies out of which my wife and I chose one application in particular. I was now quite resigned to the fact that my wife was going and at the least I wanted her to leave on the best terms possible, and therefore invited her to help me choose from the many applications, someone whom she considered would be best suited to take charge of our children. This was one, Mrs Bowler of Ballarat, whom I interviewed and arranged for her to come out. This good lady took charge of my household and my wife expressed to her her satisfaction that she was leaving her children in capable hands.

My wife departed and lived with a neighbour for about two months and although only ½ a mile away she never once returned to even seen one of her children.
 During that two months she drove past our house in daylight with him in his car dozens of times and although on my occasions my children were playing close to the road, she never even waved a hand or looked in their direction. My children were seized with an epidemic of whooping cough, just as she was leaving and a couple of them were serious, and confined to bed. And during the time she was living with this neighbour she caused the most vile rumours to be circulated such as accusing me of having known Mrs Bowler long before I had engaged her – my wife knowing that our children were down with the dreaded whooping cough, also wrote defaming letters to the Closer Settlement Board – she wrote to the store keeper telling him to stop our credit (and thereby cut off the food supply to me and her sick children) saying that I would not pay him. The storekeeper, of course, regarded her letter as the work of a devil and ignored it. After my wife left my neighbour, I lost trace of her for some time. I have already told you when and how she left for England.

From the time my wife left here, Mrs Bowler took a wonderful interest in my home and children. She grew to love my children with a motherly love, which had never before been extended to them – she proved to be an outstanding housekeeper methodical and clean, and took a great interest in the home and also in everything about the farm. She was a true Christian mother to my children – she was a mother, a pal, a sister, a nurse and a loyal help-meet to me. Naturally I grew to love her and she to love me. I am satisfied that the Almighty God sent her to me in my trouble.

My wife left Australian in November 1930 (sic) for England, and I received from her (address not given) a letter dated 16th June 1932. (I still have the letter) in which my wife said that she was glad to be back in England – that she would never again return to me as my wife, and that event tho’ she may some day return to Australia, she would never cross my path again.

You will concede from the dates, that my wife had been gone for over two years, and upon receipt of this letter Mrs Bowler and I declared our love for each other (her husband had left her without support in just a similar way as my wife left me) and we decided that we should now join our broken lives in one.
Sir, I have no regrets, our little son was born as you know on 11th April 1933. He is the joy of our lives – happiness is only a mild expression four home and children. I thank God for it all – and altho’ I do hope to be divorced to satisfy our social laws I am satisfied to continue as we are if need be.

By deed of will Mrs Bowler changed her name to mine, and I am enclosing a copy of the notice which was circulated.

During our married life my wife persistently and continually accused me of the most damnable things, her pet accusation was that of misconduct and going with other women. She accused me of cruelty, she interfered with my business, she circulated the most vile rumours behind my back, she was a wicked, heartless, extravagant woman and yet, in spite of the most severe provocation I am thankful that I had sufficient self control never to have paid a hand on her. I do not drink and never have done.

She ruined all my social life, instead of joining me in it. I was a Captain in the C.M.Forces and commanded the Ballarat Light Horse Squadron after my 5 years and 5 months of active service abroad. I was a member of a Freemasons Lodge, I was president of our local school committee, I was secretary of our Progress Association and our local Returned Soldiers League. One by one I dropped them all to satisfy my wife, because she accused me of despicable things – she openly declared to me, and everyone, that women were the attraction at lodges.

In all our married life my wife never left a stone unturned if she thought she could get sufficient evidence or sufficient reason for clearing out – but never did she get anything against me, because I was always straight – I did my best to please her always. And now she proposes to drag my truest pal and our bonny baby into a filthy divorce case. All this time she has had to wait – she is apparently corresponding with this neighbour of mine. I will still hold my head up and my shoulders back when it is all over.

My six sons are growing up fast, all good boys and Irene Mary Callow is the only mother my younger ones will ever know – a true Christian mother too.

In my last letter to you I told you of my financial position and you are therefore aware that I am not in a position to enter into any costly divorce proceedings. My fair partner and I have struggled hard against big odds during this depression in an effort to keep going – my wife ruined me financially through her extravagance and we are still struggling to pay debits directly and indirectly incurred by my wife…’

The addition of baby Keith Douglas on 11 April 1933, who was clearly adored by Aub, had been a short-lived happiness, with the baby dying suddenly on 1 January 1935. A coroner’s inquest showed the 20-month-old boy had died from asphyxia caused by an enlarged thymus gland pressing across his trachea. This heartbreaking situation was only softened by the birth of their second son, Noel Reginald, on 2 March 1936.

It was years before the Family Law Act came into being and in the 1930’s a couple were required to have been separated for five years before applying – and grounds had to be established. So it was that, on 14 June 1939, the undefended case was finally heard in Melbourne. The grounds for the divorce was listed as misconduct. Despite the Aub’s empassioned letter, which was presented, the judge found in favour of the plaintiff; strangely, he did not question why Catherine Callow had chosen to leave her children. A decree nisi was immediately granted.

Aub and Irene married the following year.

Despite the allegations made by Catherine Callow, Aub proved to be a loving husband to Irene and a doting father to their combined family. Loris, who had adopted the surname of Callow, went on to be one of Ballarat’s finest citizens and someone I was proud to call my friend.

Irene had also encouraged Aub to resume his involvement in local groups: in 1935 he was president of the Brewster Tennis Club and, in 1937, he was secretary of the Brewster Settlement Hall Committee.

The outbreak of a second global conflict called on all those with leadership experience. Aub was on the Reserve of Officers and was aware that he had a role to fill. On 1 July 1940, he enlisted at the Balcombe Army Camp with the rank of captain and a new regimental number – V50177. At 44, he was regarded as middle aged, but he was superbly fit (thanks to years playing tennis, baseball and cricket) and looked far younger. He was heavier than he had been in his youth, his brown hair had turned grey and there was a slight deterioration in the sight in his right eye, but overall he was a picture of exuberant good health.

Initially, Aub was On Command with the No13 Training Battalion at Seymour. He was promoted to the rank of major on 20 June 1941 and was deployed to New Guinea for service. There he took over as second in command of the 2/39th Infantry Battalion on 6 October and was officer commanding the Main Aerodrome Ground Defences. His role was central to the coming campaign on the Kokoda Track.

The day after the campaign across the Owen Stanley Ranges began on 21 July 1942, Aub Callow was placed on the Reserve of Officers and returned to Australia. He was at the No1 Recruiting Centre in Melbourne on 7 December 1942 when he transferred to the Royal Australian Air Force. His experience in wireless, telegraphy and telephony was seen as a distinct asset and he was appointed as an aircraftman (125069) at the 1 School of Administration at Carlton. On 30 January 1943, Aub was appointed to the commissioned rank of flying officer. (He be promoted to flight lieutenant on 1 July 1944 and finished the war as a squadron leader).

Throughout 1943, Aub was transferred to various schools and depots around Australia – the Armament School at Hamilton, 3 Embarkation Depot in Brisbane and the 1 Recruit Depot at Shepparton. His work involved administration, Special Duties and defence.
On 22 October 1944, Aub was posted to the School of Artillery at Randwick. When the war ended on 2 September 1945, he was commanding the 25 Operational Base Unit in Cairns. At the final parade of the Far North Queensland Air Training Corps, Aub spoke proudly of their performance.

Aub was to maintain his connection with the 2/39th Battalion, becoming the 39th Battalion Association president in 1949. At their annual pilgrimage to the Melbourne Shrine of Remembrance that year, sprigs of lantana, growing wild in the Owen Stanleys, were flown in specially for the commemoration on 7 August. Aub addressed the assembled veterans of the campaign, appealing to the men to ‘fight for peace, with the same courage and determination as they fought for victory during the war.’

Elaborating on this concept, Aub added, ‘…We have in our midst an element which seeks to destroy our freedom and to bring us to slavery. Every ex-serviceman and woman should be proud to wear the badge of either the R.S.L. or the Australian Legion of Ex-Servicemen and Women. These badges should label the wearer as an anti-Communist. Always we must do everything in our power to prevent our liberties being taken from us. If we do not all for which we fought will have been in vain…’

Aub had returned to Irene and his family at Trawalla after he was “demobbed” on 13 March 1946. His boys, Royston, Edward Andrew and Leslie Auburn had all served during the war – Roy completing the circle by serving as a trooper with the 8th Light Horse Regiment. They all worked side-by-side on the family property.

In the early 1950’s, Aub and Irene moved to Mornington in semi-retirement. They returned to Ballarat in the 1970’s, taking a house in Hastings Street, Wendouree, with most of their extended family living nearby.

After what had been a life of great achievement, struggle and adversity, Aub had enjoyed a long period of happiness with his beloved Irene. He died at Ballarat on 10 June 1977 – Irene followed him just three years later on 14 April 1980.